Work Text:
Simon Bassett met Sophie Shu-Mei Beckett on Thursday the 3rd of March 1794 and continued to meet once a week until the autumn of 1804 when the latter disappeared to Oxford and never wrote back. But during those coutnless afternoons the pair gre together both in body and mind. But one thing always remained—their penchant for scheming and pranks.
Escapade 1: Woodland Adventures
Sophie (7) Simon (11)
“How long will it take until someone finds us?” Sophie asked as the pair climbed down from the oak tree. “Any ideas?” She looked up at him expectantly.
Simon pondered and his mind sparked.
“The wood.”
Sophie grinned and held out her hand. Simon took it.
*~*~~*~*
Three Hours Later
“Master Simon!”
“Miss Beckett!”
“Shh,” Simon hushed, putting his hand over Sophie’s mouth to stop her giggling.
The children were squatting behind a mass of fallen tree branches, discreetly peering over to check whether the coast was clear.
“Master Simon, Miss Beckett!” The two voices called.
“That’s Hector and Edgar, the gardeners,” Simon explained. Sophie nodded and peered over to see.
After establishing first names, the pair had spent the last few hours running along the outer paths of Clyvedown’s forests. Simon had spent an afternoon enraptured by Sophie’s stories of woodland fairies and bulky trolls. At one point they had found sticks and pretended to be chivalrous knights. For the first time, ina very long time, Simon had finally found someone else to share his fantasies and ideas with.
“Come out children! It is time for Miss Beckett to return home!”
Sophie ducked down and curled up in the tightest ball her limbs could manage.
“I do not want to leave. I do not want to go back to that quiet house.”
Simon turned to the girl who, three hours ago had been a stranger. And maybe because she had so quickly accepted his stutter, or maybe because Simon had never had anyone to care for, he felt a surge of affection for her.
So, he took her hand.
“Let us go deeper.”
Escapade 18: Swapsies.
Sophie (8) Simon (11)
For the first time at Clyvedown, since their weekly playdates had occurred, it was pouring with rain.
Simon and Sophie wandered aimlessly through forgotten corridors and past rooms whose locks were rusty from neglect and whose windowsills had a thick layer of dust upon them. And ofcourse, endless rooms covered in pictures.
“One would think in a castle like this that there should be something to do,” Sophie groaned, swinging her way through a doorway into another room full of pictures. She swung around to him “What do you do when it rains?”
“I read or I study.”
“But I do that all the time, we are supposed to do something different during these afternoons.” She continued while staring up at the wall of pictures. She went silent or a while, then cocked her head.
Oh no. Simon thought.
“I was thinking.”
“Always dangerous.”
Sophie turned to him and shot a lacklustre glare.
“I was thinking,” she restarted, “whether anyone actually came along here and whether they would notice if something was wrong.”
“Whatever do you mean?”
“Well,” Sophie marched up to one painting and unhooked it from the wall. Then she did the same to another picture, three frames to the left. She swapped them around and replaced them on the wall. “Do you think anyone would notice?” She looked back at him with a twinkle in her eyes. “Want to find out what we can get away with until someone comes and looks for us?”
Simon smirked.
*~*~*~*
From then on, during rainy days, the pair would try to switch furniture whenever and wherever possible.
As the years rolled on, their attempts grew more outlandish and their methods more discreet. The ultimate victory had been when the pair spent Simon’s three-month summer holiday swapping all the furniture from the green drawing room to the blue drawing room. Mrs Colson did not realise until Simon returned from Eton that December.
Escapade 98: Gooseberry Pie.
Sophie (9) Simon (13)
Simon paced at the beginning of the secret hatch, a thousand possibilities rushing through his head.
What is Sophie had been discovered?
What if Sophie had become lost?
What if Sophie had become stuck?
A horrifying image formed in his mind. Simon cursed himself, because this little escapade had been his idea, a way to let Sophie take risks without fearing the consequences—unlike at home with her stepmother.
“Simon! Simon! I got it!”
Sophie slithered out of the passage, hair full of cobwebs, in her hands she held the treasure.
One whole gooseberry pie.
He ran forward and helped her up.
“Did it all go to plan?”
“Oh yes, the chute is a little longer than we expected.”
“Good, let us leave quickly.”
“Where should we go?”
Simon grinned.
*~*~**~*
“But what should we do with the piedish?” Sophie, ever practical, asked. She had rolled the sleeves of her dress up, a pretty blue and cream pinstripe one, so Simon could see a smattering of bruiseson her hands and in the crook of her elbows.
“Hmm?” Simon replied, rubbing his very full stomach.
Sophie gestured to the clean piedish in front of them.
“We cannot return them, for the cooks shall wish to ask questions, but we cannot leave it in the grass for the groundskeeper to find.”
“Why not keep it up the tree?” Simon suggested. Sophie turned to him with her eyes sparkling.
“We could have a treasure trove—no, a chest of conquests.”
“Bagsie not putting the plate up the tree.”
She punched his arm, causing him to squawk. He retaliated by tickling her, which she retaliated tenfold, and they spent the final minutes of their time together in shrieks of laughter.
Escapade 231: Secret Passages
Sophie (13). Simon (17)
“There you are!” Simon cried, still lanky enough to slip through the narrow passage that ran within the walls and connected the green drawing room to the main hall. Sophie looked up and smiled. Unfortunately, she smiled her closed-lip smile, not the bright beam of her younger years. Regardless, she answered Simon’s beckons and together they sidled down the passage.
“May I ask what it is exactly we are running away from?” she asked sweetly, waiting for Simon to edge himself through a pinch-point.
“Guess.”
“My lovely stepsister?”
“No, I know Posy is by the stables. Although I do not know why.”
“She likes riding horses, adores them, I suggested she visit them today. Ofcourse I asked Andrew, your stable boy, to look out for her.”
Simon stopped, causing Sophie to bump into him. He turned to her, even though they could not see each other.
“You really are too good for this world, Sophie.”
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing.”
What Simon wished to say was: Only you would continue to offer a hand to the vipers that bite you.
“Posy is not like my other step-sister, she is kind and patient. She is just a little quiet.”
“I know, I know…”
The conversation ended for they had reached the drawing room. No one in sight.
“So, it is my other lovely sister who is vexing you.”
Simon finally caught the sarcasm.
“Indeed, she has followed me around like a dog follows a tasty bone.”
“And you have many tasty bones,” Sophie joked, poking his ribs. Simon shot her a glare.
“I am lean, there is nothing wrong with being lean.”
“I suppose, it does mean you can fit down the passages—oh!” She turned to him with a very recognisable glint in her eye. “Why, I think we can have a little fun. After all, no one else knows the passages like us.”
The pair grinned.
*~*~*~*
They spent a delightful couple of hours running around the secret passages, causing Sophie’s lovely stepsister to chase them around in growing frustration. Simon went one step further and started to pretend to be a ghost, causing her stepsister to scream and dash away.
“We should not laugh,” Sophie snorted through her giggles.
“She deserves it, after everything she puts you through—”
“Simon.”
Sophie hated talking about things. Oh, she could talk about mathematics, books, the garden, or make up fantastical stories. But she never talked about her family or the periods between her Clyvedown visits. She never talked about why she did not smile properly, or where the alarming number of bruises emanated from.
Instead, Sophie found the passage behind Arnold Armpit and started heading down the steps it hid.
“Are all your stepsiblings here today?” Simon asked.
“Yes.”
“Even your stepbrother?”
“Yes, even him—and before you say a word or do something stupid—we do not need to see him and so shall not give him the satisfaction of an audience.”
Sometimes Sophie acted very mature—far too mature in Simon’s eyes. Anthony Bridgerton regaled Simon about the annoying childishness of his younger sisters—the eldest, Daphne, only being twelve. But even at twelve Sophie had acted this way, even though today she wore a familiar blue and cream pinstriped dress, the fabric paper-thin due to overwear.
They exited downstairs among the servants and meandered their way to the backdoor.
“Now, I know who is worthy of a Duke’s attention and that is—Jīnyú.” Simon grinned.
Jīnyú, was a Labrador on Sophie’s estate who matched Sophie year for year and had been a third-party to some of their best escapades. Normally, when Jīnyú visited, he stayed down in the servant’s quarters but always bounded up whenever Sophie stepped within ten yards of him.
“Jīnyú! Dào zhè li lái!” Sophie called.
But no shaggy Labrador bounded up to them. Simon stopped a footman.
“Do you know where Miss Beckett’s Labrador is?”
“Oh, Sophie dear,” Anastasia, Mrs Armitage’s su-chef, called. “Someone already took your dog outside.”
Simon was about to ask who, but Sophie was already skipping away. So ofcourse, he followed.
That was the last time he saw her skip.
Escapade 301: Chest of Conquests
Sophie (14) Simon (18)
“I found it!” Simon called, crouching in their favourite oak tree, too tall and weighty to stand up now.
“Found what!” Sophie called from the grass, sitting on the blanket, her wooden leg peeking out her skirts.
During their normal sessions, whether that be Simon teaching mathematics or Sophie talking about flowers, the blanket would be laid next to the stream, a stone’s throw away from the oak. Simon found that Sophie had grown ever more enamoured with water since her accident and amputation. Most afternoons she would put her normal foot in the stream and watch the currents play with it for hours.
But with this being their penultimate meeting before Simon left for Oxford, Simon decided they should return to where it all began. This time with an authorised picnic.
“I found our chest of conquests—it is all present here. Watch out.”
Sophie squeaked as a piedish thumped onto the ground beside her, followed closely by two more. She picked them up and smiled.
Next came a little porcelain figurine; a memoir from a ‘swapsies’ attempt. Simon had been forced to pocket it when an unexpected Mrs Colson swept into the room.
Then a rotten beaded bracelet. In those three months when she had stayed at Clyvedown, to properly recover from her operation, she had tried bracelet making before finding her true solace in the garden.
A couple other worn or disfigured papers and items fluttered down; precious memoirs from a childhood full of escapades and pranks that had provided refuge from the shadows of the real world.
Eventually, Simon swung down and sat next to her, he found Sophie going through each object with glassy eyes.
“I cannot thank you enough, Simon.”
“For what?”
“For being my best friend.”
“Hey, hey, Sophie,” Simon took her hand and made sure he caught her gaze. “This is not the end; I will not be gone forever."
“I know, but you are still leaving.”
“Well, I have some of my own memoirs to remind you of me and the fabulousness that was my presence in your life.” He turned to reach into his bag and knew Sophie was shaking her head.
“You can be so conceited sometimes.”
“Only for you—here.” First, he handed her a map of Clyvedown with shaky lines and loopy, childish writing.
“Our map,” Sophie said softly.
“Yes, with all the secret passages we found marked—see.” He pointed to the extra squiggles and arrows.
“I forgot we drew this.”
“I did not. And to make sure you can continue the enrichment of your mind, I give to thee, my ever-eager pupil, all my textbooks.”
He handed her a stack of books, Sophie pounced on them.
“Are you sure?” She flicked open the first to find all his notes about History.
“Absolutely, I know after Madame Timmons left you have been lacking stimulation.”
“Oh, these are wonderful. Thank you, thank you, thank you.” Sophie bowled him over with a hug and they toppled onto the grass. She gave him an exaggerated kiss on the cheek.
Simon thought about how Anthony Bridgerton would talk, before his father’s passing, about playing in the gardens with Francesca, Daphne, and Eloise.
But Simon knew he had something better than a gaggle of sisters, He had a best friend—he had a Sophie.
Escapade 303: White Chrysanthemums
“How long will it take until someone finds us?” Tamara whispered to Nadia as the couple followed Sophie to a set of giant gates. As they approached, they saw the Hastings crest engraved on the wrought iron.
“Shh, Tammy,” Nadia whispered back, “stop worrying. No one will find us, and Sophie needs to say goodbye.”
They stopped a couple yards away, allowing Sophie to approach the gates on her own, cane in one hand and a bunch of white chrysanthemums in the other.
“Do you believe she knew him well?”
“Knowing Sophie…she don’t lie too often and she cries even less.”
Nadia leant into Tamara.
“It doesn’t half make me worried to be going back to London, to work for his wife.”
Tamara linked her hand with Nadia’s and kissed her forehead.
“Sophie’s strong, and if she’s not then we will catch her and hold her.”
They watched Sophie stand at the gate for a while, before she turned to them, tears streaming down her face.
Immediately the girls went to her and engulfed her tightly. Sophie did not sob; she did not scream—she had done all that three nights after reading the Duke’s obituary in the newspaper. All she said was,
“He was one of the few things that made my childhood bearable.”
Nadia and Tamara hugged tighter, all three of them had shared their stories of hardship, all three of them had held each other during the storms.
Sophie gradually disengaged from the embrace and held up her white chrysanthemums.
“I want to plant these, so I might be some time.”
Nadia knew the perfect thing to say.
“Do not worry. Take your time. We are not going anywhere.”